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Dead Baby Joes





dead baby joes














dead baby joes - Children and




Children and Grief: When a Parent Dies


Children and Grief: When a Parent Dies



Drawing upon extensive interviews and assessments of school-age children who have lost a parent to death, this book offers a portrait of the mourning process in children. The volume presents major findings from the Harvard Child Bereavement Study and places them in the context of previous research, shedding new light on both the wide range of normal variation in children's experience of grief and the factors that put bereaved children at risk. The book also compares parentally bereaved children with those who have suffered loss of a sibling to death, or of a parent through divorce, exploring similarities and differences in these experiences of loss. A concluding section explores the clinical implications of the findings and includes a review of intervention models and activities, as well as a screening instrument designed to help identify high-risk bereaved children.










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Surrender The Rain




Surrender The Rain





“'Was there one thing in particular that caused you to lose your faith in God?' I asked at the outset.
He thought for a moment. 'It was a photograph in Life magazine,' he said finally.
'Really?' I said. 'A photograph? How so?'
He narrowed his eyes a bit and looked off to the side, as if he were viewing the photo afresh and reliving the moment. 'It was a picture of a black woman in Northern Africa,' he explained. 'They were experiencing a devastating drought. And she was holding her dead baby in her arms and looking up to heaven with the most forlorn expression. I looked at it and I thought, “Is it possible to believe that there is a loving or caring Creator when all this woman needed was rain?”'
As he emphasized the word rain, his bushy gray eyebrows shot up and his arms gestured toward heaven as if beckoning for a response.
'How could a loving God do this to that woman?' he implored as he got more animated, moving to the edge of his chair. 'Who runs the rain? I don't; you don't. He does - or that's what I thought. But when I saw that photograph, I immediately knew it is not possible for this to happen and for there to be a loving God. There was no way. Who else but a fiend could destroy a baby and virtually kill its mother with agony – when all that was needed was rain?'” - Lee Strobel interviewing Charles Templeton

“Faith drained them of the guilt that had oppressed them. Faith replaced despondency with hope. Faith infused them with new direction and purpose. Faith unlocked heaven. Faith was like cool water soaking their parched souls.” -Strobel

So here is something I have wanted to write on for a few weeks now. I think that this will be significantly different from some of my earlier writings, in that it is focused more on quotes from scripture rather than my own opinion. So, here goes nothing...
Earlier today I was taking part in a short conversation about free will. How much free will do we have and how much control does God exert over us. Let's take it a step further. How much control does God exert over the world. C.S. Lewis, when talking about miracles, once said that you don't have to look far to find a miracle of God: if you look at a vineyard you will find God taking water from the sky and making it into wine everyday; if you look in the sea you will see God taking one fish and turning it into enough to feed five thousand. The miracles of nature are being performed everyday. But how? We see God's creation still limping along trying to fulfill the purposes God created them for, recreating his miracles. I want to use one of Joe's most quoted verses:

“Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?
"Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!” Luke 12:24-28

God provides for them. That seems to lean more towards Templeton, who would say because God did not provide, he does not exist. But I think that the fundamental issue we are looking at is possibly a bit different than it first appears. You shouldn't worry about tomorrow, you should trust God to provide. But to hold that alone is to take a verse and twist it. Another verse:

"My food," said Jesus, "is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. Do you not say, 'Four months more and then the harvest'? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. Even now the reaper draws his wages, even now he harvests the crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together. Thus the saying 'One sows and another reaps' is true. I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor." John 4:34-38

And another:

“Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” -Luke 12:33-34

So now what does the story say? God will provide, both for our bodies and our spirits, real food and spiritual food. How do we get this food? We can't just expect mana from Heaven... honestly. He says it right there! Doing the work of the Father! So now we've established that this is important, food from God is the fruit of serving him.

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing... This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, sh











Water Queen Zilldor of Katadyn...at rest!




Water Queen Zilldor of Katadyn...at rest!






Sunflower Sutra

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.

The only water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--

--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem

and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past--

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--

corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,

leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

The grime was no man's grime but death and human locomotives,

all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--modern--all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown--

and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos--all these

entangled in your mummied roots--and you standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!

A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!

How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of your railroad and your flower soul?

Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!

And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!

So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,

and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,

--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

--Allen Ginsberg









dead baby joes








dead baby joes




Demon Resurrection






"H.P. Lovecraft meets NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD.... Recommended." - Buried com
In an isolated house, a group of friends battle supernatural forces as they try to protect a young woman from an evil cult in this low-budget horror shocker....
Something's wrong with Grace and her friends are worried. Ever since she moved in with her new boyfriend, she's been behaving strangely and looks ill. Is she on drugs? Fearing the worst, the friends decide to stage an intervention at the couple's isolated house.
But when they arrive they realize they've made a potentially lethal mistake... Grace isn't on drugs but she is in terrible danger. Her condition is the result of something horrible that was done to her during the brief time she was a member of an obscure cult headed by a mysterious man named Toth.
The friends learn that Grace's boyfriend rescued her from the cult but that Toth is intent on getting her back and has picked that very night to lay siege to the house, using all the supernatural powers at his disposal. Why does he want her so badly? The friend's must struggle to find the answer while the evil cult leader summons up the very forces of hell against them!
The special edition DVD features the full-length 87 minute film - unrated, uncut and uncensored - and many extras including:
- a 30 minute "behind the scenes" documentary detailing the production of the film and featuring extensive interviews with the film's cast and crew.
- Interviews with director William Hopkins and producer Frank Cilla.
- A feature-length audio commentary by Hopkins and co-producer Edward Wheeler.
- Spanish and English Subtitles.
This film is unrated and contains scenes of gory violence and nudity. Intended for audiences ages 18 +










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